The royal wing smelled different.
Seren noticed it the moment she passed through the carved archway that separated the servants' passages from the King's domain. The air here carried weight. Incense and old wood and something else beneath it all, something wild that made the hair on her arms stand up.
Two guards flanked the entrance to the King's chambers. They looked her over with flat expressions that gave nothing away.
"Medicine," she said quietly, touching the pouch at her belt.
One guard knocked twice, then pushed the door open without waiting for an answer. He jerked his head. She went in.
The room was enormous. Seren had scrubbed floors in noble bedrooms before but this was different. The ceiling soared overhead, painted with constellations she didn't recognize. Tapestries covered the walls, each one depicting wolves in various states of hunt and glory. The bed itself sat on a raised platform, curtained in midnight blue.
And there were people everywhere.
Seren kept her eyes down but she could feel them staring. A healer stood closest to the bed, mixing something in a brass bowl. Two servants waited by the windows with fresh linens. And near the fireplace, three figures stood in absolute stillness.
The triplets.
She didn't need to look directly at them to know. Everyone in the palace knew about the King's three sons born in the same hour, identical in face but different in every way that mattered. The air around them felt compressed, dangerous.
"You're not the usual woman." The healer's voice cut through the silence. He was elderly, thin as a reed, with ink-stained fingers. "Where is she?"
"Ill," Seren said. "I'm her daughter. I brought the morning tonic."
"Show me."
She approached carefully, pulling the vial from its pouch. The healer took it and held it up to the light, examining the color and clarity. His eyebrows rose slightly.
"The measurements are correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"You're certain?"
"I measured them myself. Under her supervision for years."
The healer unstoppered the vial and sniffed. His expression shifted to something that might have been approval. "Good. The last batch was weak. This is properly done."
Relief washed through her but she kept her face neutral. "Thank you, sir."
"Give it here." The voice came from the bed itself, rough as gravel scraped over stone.
Everyone in the room tensed.
The healer moved toward the curtains. Seren stayed where she was, eyes fixed on the floor. She heard fabric rustle, then a low sound that wasn't quite human. A growl that vibrated in her chest.
"Your Majesty, you shouldn't sit up—"
"I'll sit if I damn well please." Another growl, deeper this time. "Let me see the girl who made it."
Seren's heart slammed against her ribs.
"Come here." Not a request.
She forced herself to move. The healer stepped aside and she could finally see the King.
Half-wolf, the servants called him. Now she understood why.
He was propped against pillows, skin grey with sickness, but his eyes were pure amber and entirely inhuman. They fixed on her with predatory focus. His hands gripped the bedcovers and she could see claws, actual claws, where fingernails should be. Dark fur covered his forearms, thicker near his wrists.
He was dying. Everyone said so. But he still looked like he could tear her throat out without effort.
"Your mother taught you well," he said. His voice scraped. "What's your name?"
"Seren, Your Majesty."
"Seren." He tasted the word. "You're not afraid."
She was terrified. But she kept her voice steady. "I'm honored to serve."
Something that might have been amusement flickered in those amber eyes. Then he gestured to the healer. "Give it to me."
The healer administered the tonic carefully. The King drank it in three swallows, then fell back against the pillows. His breathing sounded wet and labored.
"Out," he said. "All of you."
The healer bowed. The servants by the windows moved immediately. Seren turned to leave.
"Not you three." The King's voice stopped her cold. "Stay."
She realized he wasn't talking to her. She glanced up without thinking and met the eyes of the triplet nearest to her.
He stood with his arms crossed, watching her with an expression she couldn't read. His hair was dark as coal, pulled back from a face that was beautiful and terrible in equal measure. He wore black from throat to boots and didn't blink.
The other two looked identical. One lounged against the wall with studied carelessness. The other stood rigid, hands clasped behind his back like a soldier.
"Seren." The voice came from behind her, sharp and cold.
She turned. A young woman swept into the room through a side door, blonde hair cascading down her back like spilled honey. She wore a gown the color of fresh cream and her face was lovely in the way expensive things were lovely—flawless but somehow untouchable.
Princess Elowen. The King's only daughter.
"Who," the princess said slowly, "are you?"
Seren bowed her head immediately. "The medicine woman's daughter, Your Highness. I brought the King's tonic."
"How interesting." Elowen's tone suggested it was anything but interesting. She circled Seren like a cat examining something dead. "I don't recall requesting a new servant in my father's chambers."
"My mother is ill, Your Highness. I came in her place."
"And you thought that was appropriate?" Elowen stopped in front of her. "To enter the King's private chambers without proper clearance?"
"The steward approved—"
"The steward." Elowen's laugh was crystalline and cutting. "How fortunate that a steward outranks a princess in her own father's room."
"Elowen." One of the triplets spoke. The one who'd been lounging. His voice was smooth, almost amused. "Leave the girl alone. She brought the medicine. Father drank it. That's all that matters."
"Stay out of this, Theron."
"I'm simply pointing out that you're being dramatic."
"And I'm simply pointing out that we have protocols for a reason." Elowen's blue eyes never left Seren's face. "Especially now, with traitors in the palace."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Seren kept perfectly still. She didn't know what Elowen meant but she knew enough to recognize a trap when she heard one.
"You're dismissed," the princess said finally. "Take the servants' exit."
Seren bowed and retreated. She felt their eyes on her back the entire way to the door—the triplets, the princess, maybe even the dying King. She didn't breathe properly until she was back in the corridor.
The guards paid her no attention as she passed. She turned left, heading for the servants' staircase, then stopped.
Two guards stood at the far end of the hallway, voices low and tense.
"—found another one this morning," the first guard said. "Third body in two weeks."
"Throat torn out?"
"Like the others. Captain thinks it's one of them."
"One of who?"
"The wolves. Who else could kill like that?"
Seren's pulse kicked up. She shouldn't be hearing this. She turned to go back the way she came but the princess's voice carried through the King's door, sharp and angry. She couldn't go back that way.
She spotted a side corridor and took it, walking quickly. The passage was narrower here, less decorated. She didn't recognize it but it had to lead somewhere. All corridors did.
The voices faded behind her. She counted her steps, trying to map her location in her head, but nothing looked familiar. The walls here were plain stone, the torches spaced farther apart.
She turned a corner and stopped.
This corridor ended in a single door, heavy oak banded with iron. No windows. No other exits.
She'd taken a wrong turn.
Behind her, footsteps echoed. Someone was coming.
Seren pressed herself against the wall and hoped whoever it was wouldn't look too closely at a servant who'd gotten lost.
The footsteps grew louder.